100 People who have died across the galaxy is a series of short stories.

3- Gerald Goz.

His head wound was getting worse, the room was losing focus, and shaking, he thought he heard screaming.

He stood at a proud 3 feet, the definition of average for a Gitten, but at the moment, he was lying down, facefirst on the floor.

Another salvo smashed into the side of the ship, the lights came crashing down in unison, filling the room with shards of glass that dug into the back of his head.

"Oh dear." mumbled Gerald.

"Teddy?" groaned out Gerald.

"Teddy?"

Gerald was breathing heavily.

"Good lad."

Gerald placed his hands below him, and pushed with the little strength he had left, he righted himself, his arms dragged, and everything hurt.

He threw himself next to the window to see what was going on.

A collosal ship lied across from him, marked with the federal colours, blue and silver.

"Oh dear." mumbled Gerald, again.

He kept looking out, and saw that there were still escape pods left in the hangar bay.

He looked closer at the window, and saw his reflection, his face was covered in blood.

"Oh dear." said Gerald.

He looked around the room, and he saw Jerry, face down as well, quiet.

"Jerry." he barked, in his usual slightly drunk tone.

"Poor bastard." he thought.

He knelt down over Jerry and cut off part of his shirt, which he affixed to his head.

"Keep, function." thought Gerald, he said this to himself a lot, he felt like acting like a machine made him better at his job.

He stumbled forward through the room, into a long hallway, which he trudged through.

The intercom came alive, with the sobbing voice of the captain "I've engaged the hard locks past section 4, Ted, Mary, Dan, i'm so fucking sorry."

The sound of a laser bolt hitting flesh came over the intercom.

"Oh dear."

He heard the door open behind him.

"Gerald?"

"Gerald!"

Lakech was a Quiboan, a cubic head on four long tentacles.

"Gerald, we've got to get a fucking move on!"

Lackech scooped up Gerald and started to run towards the Hangar.

"Lakech." said Gerald.

Lackech ignored him, running forward.

"Lackech." repeated Gerald.

Gerald saw tears welling in Lackech's eyes.

"You're going to be OK." said Lakech.

"Lackech."

A laser bolt hit Lakech back on the leg he was using to hold Gerald, Lackech screamed in pain, but stayed upright.

"Lackech!, move!"

Gerald fished Lackech's laser pistol from his grip.

"You either don't move and get killed by me, or you move and don't get killed by anyone, you stupid, bloody, bastard!" screamed Gerald.

This was rare, Gerald never screamed.

Gerald fished himself back up, he'd lost too much blood, he couldn't feel his legs.

A man wearing a 3 point federal ensign stopped for a moment.

"Him, nobody shoot him." he said, pointing at Gerald.

Gerald held up the pistol and began firing at the navy blue blob.

The mass moved quickly, shields blocking his fire, Gerald heard someone scream, he only hoped it was someone in the phalanx.

They moved over Gerald, and kept marching.

Gerald saw his face, head of the internal defense committee, James Cordroy.

James was a Culdin, a race that used psychic energy to manifest limbs.

"Nice try."

He pointed over to one of his guards, who stamped on Gerald's face.

Gerald fired his pistol, hitting the guard.

James crushed his arm with his foot.

"You're incredibly stupid."

"Leave him, we've got to start the clearup here."

Gerald whispered.

"Fiuck Yu."

James leant over him again.

"What was that?"

Gerald spat at him, mostly blood.

James wiped his face with his hankerchief.

"I'm not going to make it quicker for you."

They began to walk off.

"Keeb"

"Funcjun" repeated Gerald

"keeb"

"funcjun"

"keeb"

"funjun"

"ke-"

A laser bolt hit Gerald in the head.

James turned around to his guard.

"I said, I wasn't going to make it quicker for him."

The Quiboan guard spoke in a panicked voice.

"Sorry sir, misfire!"

James turned back and hovered towards the Hangar.

3 - Gerald Goz.